Puppets
by AkeldamaStone
Summary: Deals are tricky; especially when you don't remember yours. Viola has been one of Bill's puppets for five months, and is desperate to be free. Dipper's new to the club, but may have a way to cut the strings. Mabel gets tangled up in wires, loosing her sense of reality. But what if they find something that they shouldn't have: Something that may erase their very existance forever?
1. Chapter 1: Strange Meetings

**Hello there, reader! Thank you kindly for stopping upon my story and only taking a few minutes of your time to R&R! Feedback and suggestions are welcome, so... yeah. Enjoy!**

Chapter 1

He - it - wants to kill me.

The Puppet Master.

Information was constantly flowing into my mind, and I was barely able to handle it. It's Bi- the Puppet Master's form of torture. Instead of bothering my sleep, which he sometimes does anyway, he has to stretch my mind to its limits and then some. It's times like this where I want to take my offer back so badly - but I can't.

_Pine Tree,_ I spatistically twitch. _Shooting Star_.

People are staring now, and I pull my red hood over my eyes more so I can only see the ground. After a grand two-and-a-half week struggle, not only had I freed myself enough from the Puppet Master to have control over my body, but I had finally figured out where these 'Pine Tree' and 'Shooting Star' people live. Right here in Gravity Falls.

Three kids, two 12 year olds, one about 16, are walking behind me about twenty feet or so, and they're watching me. My nerves light and my muscles tense; how long have they been following me?

I nearly start sprinting and round a corner into an alley. My breathing is ragged, and I'm shaking violently. Why me? Why could I just not have accepted his offer? My life would have been happy; I would've been _normal_.

10-9 8-3-8-8-19-4 5-4-6-15-10-17-5 21-23-10 16-9-12-20 11-19 20-9-1-10...

"Numbers?" I groan. As if I could decode anything.

_5-9 8-23-4-15-19-10-4-12-25 15 1-23-4-21-16 4-16-15-5 4-9-1-10..._

_23-22-10-9-6-11-23-12 5-9-9-10 1-15-12-12 22-19 4-16-19 10-9-6-11..._

_19-10-14-9-25 4-16-19 21-23-12-11 22-19-18-9-6-19 4-16-19 5-4-9-6-11._

"Why are you telling me this?" I ask the ground. "I don't have to brains to decode it, you know."

A low chuckle resonates deep in my skull, making me cringe. _Pine Tree knows._

"Pine Tree knows?!" I growl with frustration. "Well, might as well let me know, too! Or is that not possible, because you're just so... _generous_?" Air pushes out from in between my teeth in a demonic hiss.

There's no answer. Everything is quiet, and maybe even the three kids who were following me are gone. But he is still watching; he's always watching.

It's too quiet.

Blue fire explodes on my arm, burning what only seems to be select areas of skin. The pain is overwhelming, and when I open my mouth to scream, no noise comes out. I just lay there on the ground of a dirty alley, fire snaking up my arm, with no one to witness it.

Or not.

Just as my vision begins to fail, I see the three kids again. One of them, the 12 year old boy, has the same blue fire consuming his arm; but he seems to have put it out somehow. How cruel can the Puppet Master be?

Blue flames and blackness drag me under.

I'm being... poked? Poked with a stick. Probably some kids lame attempt at trying to get a reaction out of me. But it works. Part of the stick breaks off and falls onto my right arm, landing right on the burned skin. With a painful yelp, I jump into a crouching position, putting my good arm protectively over the burned one.

Pine Tree, Shooting Star, Question Mark.

"Woah, dude, are you okay? We saw you burning up like Dipper here, and thought that we should wake you up or something," The older of the three kids shrugs.

I glare daggers at the girl holding the stick. "Seems to have worked,"

There's a long and uncomfortable silence. Are they going to kill me? They seem too young, but with my enemies, you never know.

"So, uh, are you okay?"

I stare at the younger boy, Dipper, who's rubbing the back of his neck and looking at the ground. _Was_ I okay? No, not at all, but they can't know that. Not with the Puppet Master around.

"Other than a burned arm, I think I'm fine," I answer curtly, standing to my full height. Compared to to the oldest kid, I'm at about his eyebrows. Since when was I so tall?

Dipper's eyes widen. "It actually burned you?"

"That's what fire does, kid," The urge to call him Pine Tree almost breaks free, but how would he react? Not well, considering that was his puppet name. "Why? Did it not burn you or something?"

"Actually, it didn't. I put it out before anything happened," Pine Tree - Dipper says.

I laugh bitterly. "Lucky you! It seems the Puppet Mas-" I cut myself off. Why did I say that?! Now he knows something, and that is _not_ good. He's supposed to be the Questions, not the Answers!

"Who?" the girl asks excitedly. How could she be exited about him?! "I heard the word puppet; who is this puppet man?"

Avoiding any and all eye contact, I hesitate. "Someone you don't want to mess with," I finally whisper.

Pine Tree. I'm sure of it now. This Dipper kid is Pine Tree, the girl is Shooting Star, and the older boy is Question Mark. But I was supposed to find them, not the other way around. What happened?

Before anyone else can say anything, my right arm shoots out, propelled by an invisible force.

The Puppet Master is here.

Pine Tree jumps back at the sudden outburst, but then his eyes widen and he leans closer to inspect my arm. "I've seen these symbols before..." he mutters quietly, reaching in his jacket.

Fear sparks in my chest. What was he doing? He wasn't going to kill me, was he?

Instead of the knife I feared, Pine Tree pulls out a very familiar leather book.

"No!" I yank my arm out of its trance, ushering the trio out of the alley. "You can't show that to him. He'll destroy it!"

With a flash of knowing, Pine Tree's eyes widen. "You're talking about Bi-"

"Don't say anything, especially not his name," I say quickly. "Just _run_!"

The streets are empty, and I have a feeling I know why. Falling back behind the three others, I look back.

The only living thing I see is someone peering around the corner of the alley, but I wasn't taking any chances.

"Go, hurry up!" I shout. "Faster!"

After taking a nature-filled shortcut through the forest, a log cabin with the words 'Mystery Hack' appears. A giant letter S is propped against a tree on the other side of the clearing.

Pine Tree, Shooting Star, and Question Mark must live here, because with no hesitation at all they burst through the front door and run up the stairs. I stop on the front porch and survey the clearing; there's no sign of anything dangerous, so I carefully step inside and lock the door behind me, following the kids up the stairs.

When I reach the upstairs room, the two younger kids are already there.

"Who _are _you?" Pine Tree asks after he stopped hyperventilating.

My answer is simple: "A puppet. An instrument. Whichever he thinks of me at the time."

Shooting Star says something about someone named Soos having to hurry up with the food.

Trying to ignore my unfamiliar surroundings, I look at the symbols burned into my arm. None of them ring any bells, except for my warning ones. What where they supposed to mean? And why burn them onto me now?

"Hey!" Shooting Star shouted, snapping me out of my thoughts. "What did you say your name was again? Puppet-something?"

"No!" I snapped. "I said I _was_ a puppet; that doesn't mean it's my name."

Shooting Star laughs nervously and looks down at the ground.

"O-oh... I'm sorry. I didn't mean to be so harsh," I force a smile, but I strangely don't feel all that bad about it. Normally, I'd be killing the other person with my 'sorry's. What was wrong with me?

This time, Shooting Star smiles genuinely. "Nah, it's okay. I'd be stressed out too if I was someone's puppet," She elbows Pine Tree in the side. "Am I right?"

"Well, well, well, if it isn't Viola Strings!"

My eyes widen and I search the room frantically; Pine Tree and Shooting Star do the same.

"Oh, I suppose you wouldn't recognize me right now." The man from the alley steps out of the shadows, smirking, his arms wide open. "What do you think?"

I stare wide-eyed at the man, not believing that _this_ was... B...ill? The man was in a yellow swallow tailed suit, black pants, gloves, bow tie, and mini top hat. His hair is a light blond, and a diamond-shaped eye-patch covers his right eye. After I don't respond for a few seconds, B...i..ll's smile grows wider.

"Oh-ho, I seemed to have rendered you speechless!" he laughs, leaning forward onto a black cane.

"W-what?!" I stutter. "No you haven't, I was just-"

"Just gawking? I get it, Viola Strings, drop the act," Bi..ll smiles as normally as possible, then adds, "And you can call me Bill now. It won't kill you." He flicks around to face Pine Tree and Shooting Star. "You rejected my marks, Pine Tree. Why?"

"Marks?" Pine Tree glances from me to Bill. "The whole blue fire thing, you mean?"

Bill laughs. "What else, kid? Those were meaningful, you know."

"How so?"

Suddenly, Bill turns around and grabs my burned arm, holding it out for Pine Tree to see. The marks beneath his touch glow a bright blue. "Viola Strings seems to understand they're important."

I try to pull the rest of my body away from Bill, but I wouldn't move; I don't think it was Bill's doing, either.

"W-what do you want?" I whisper fearfully as Bill's smile widens.

"What do you think?" Bill asks, tracing a finger along the symbols on my arm, causing a trail of blue and goosebumps. In the background I see Pine Tree shift uncomfortably and Shooting Star clench her fists; but I'm too busy staring at Bill to see whatever they do next.

"I need a puppet."

**So, that's the first chapter! P.S., the narrator is a girl in this chapter, I don't know if I made that clear. Thanks for reading!**


	2. Chapter 2: Irony Viola

**Finally, Chapter 2! There's some background on Viola's part, so some things will be answered. Enjoy!**

_The red roses seemed too alien, too bright against the dark grey of the gravestone, even though they were withered and dead. A fourteen-year-old girl reached out and gently grabbed them, picking a few crumbling petals off the flowers._

_"Hey, Mom..." the girl whispered, her voice cracking. "Just though I'd check up on you."_

_Placing the dead roses aside, the girl removed new ones and placed them on the headstone."I finally bought that new viola I've wanted. You know, the one with the ivory scroll?" She kept her hand on the roses, bowing her head and letting salty tears fall. "Orion wanted to come, but he had to resolve some things with the bank. Something about not having any money in the account," A few loud sobs. "He's seventeen, for God's sake! He should be in high school learning, not forced to take care of me and stress to death! If you wouldn't have died, and if that jerk of a boyfriend wouldn't of abandoned us-"_

_Stopping herself, the girl cried openly, whispering. "I shouldn't have blamed it on you, I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry... I understand if you can't forgive me. Just watch over Orion, please. He truly deserves your love."_

_For a few minutes, the world seemed to pause. Nothing moved, nothing made any sound._

_"They're trying to fix me, Mom," she said finally, the sadness wiped clean off. A bitter look made her young features look years older. "That's literally how they said it, too. Therapists are supposed to help. Now they want to lock me up in an asylum and let me rot."_

_Cold wind blew through the graveyard, sending leaves crashing into the girl's pushing them away, she grabbed a rubber band and tied her black hair up. A red hood hid a majority of her face after another gust came from the opposite direction._

_"But I swear," She said, not bothering to push the hood back down. "Something's following me. It wants to hurt us, I think, but I wont let it. I mean, whatever it is, it can't be as weird as living gnomes, secret societies, or floating eyeballs." A nervous chuckle echoed off the hills, but it quickly disappeared. "I sound insane, don't I?"_

_Sighing, the girl took out a pen and wrote on one of the roses:_

Love, Viola

...

_When Viola was five, she stuck her finger in an electrical outlet. The shock had gone straight to her head, and the doctors feared she would be mentally disabled for the rest of her life; boy, were they wrong. Viola became smarter, it seemed. She excelled in math, science, and orchestra, moving up several grades in each. To help her brother's burdens, she volunteered to do bills and run errands._

_But her smarts came with a price._

_Viola noticed strange things in her home town. All of her encounters she wrote down in a spiral notebook; a journal of sorts. Her mom and brother didn't like the idea of her keeping the notebook, for it could attract unwanted attention, but let her keep it nonetheless._

_Then, a few weeks after Viola's fourteenth birthday, her mother died suddenly of an unnoticed brain tumor._

_Insane wasn't the right word to describe how Viola acted. She locked herself in her room for two days, refusing to come out. And when her mother's ex-boyfriend left, despair gripped her tighter. Her brother was left to run the house without any teaching, even though he learned quickly._

_Viola latched onto her notebook more than anything, even when her brother demanded it to be burned. "If we're on our own now, I'm not going to let anything have any reason to come after you," Orion had said forcefully. Viola still refused, so later that night, Orion snuck in his sister's room, grabbed her journal, and threw it in the fire._

_In the morning, Viola walked out into the messy living room, and sleepily asked if there was any cereal left. She never questioned about her notebook._

_Days passed by slowly until one day in particular: somehow, eleven days after her mother's passing, Viola ended up tied to a chair in a dark basement. The masked men who had kidnapped her wanted information of some kind. A journal. Even when Viola swore on her life she didn't know what they were talking about, they wouldn't let her go. After what seemed like forever, the men brought out a strange instrument that looked somewhat like a gun and leveled it straight to Viola's head._

_Just as the trigger was going to be pulled, the world turned grey and everything froze._

_"I can help you, Viola Strings."_

Thunder rattles the building as I shoot up off the floor. A thin blanket cover my legs and a flat pillow was pushed to my right. Lightning illuminates the cryptic symbols on my arm.

"So it wasn't a dream," I sadly thought aloud, looking around at my surroundings. The room was small and... wooden. There isn't a bed, probably why I was sleeping on the floor. Actually, the only real item in the room is a red and purple rug. "And I'm... where?"

Slowly removing the blanket off of myself, I find I'm in the exact same clothes as yesterday. Yesterday, as in the day I met Pine Tree and Shooting Star. And human Bill.

I stand, causing a sticky note to flutter off of the blanket. Upon further examination, I realize it's written on in a slightly rushed hand:

"Person we just met,

You passed out right as he disappeared. Hope you don't mind where you ended up sleeping.

-Mabel

P.S. Waddles ate a piece of paper out of your pocket. It wasn't important, right?"

Paper? I didn't have any paper in my pocket. Setting the note on the floor, I stretch out and crack my knuckles out of nervous habit. I appreciate Shooting Star's note, but her P.S. didn't make any sense. There wasn't any paper in my pocket _ever_. At least, not since my notebook disappeared. I clear my throat, again out of nervous habit, and rub my aching back. Again, I appreciate the hospitality, but it just wasn't that comfortable.

Lighting flashes again, causing something in the corner of the room to reflect the white light. As another deep roll of thunder shakes the room, I cautiously approach the object.

It's a viola case, and not just any viola case; _my_ ivory viola I had bought just five months ago.

My laughs sound more like chokes as I slide to the floor and open the case. "Beautiful," I murmur, running my hand over the smooth wine-colored scroll. "I never got to play you, did I?" Excitement pours into me as I gently grasp the neck of the viola.

Then my excitement turns to dread. Another note is scrawled out on the bottom of the case in blue ink, but this handwriting I've seen before.

"That demonic pig ate my previous note. If he disappears, I'm blaming it on you. Just a heads up.

Anyway, here's your instrument, Viola Strings. Ironic how your both viola's, huh?"

Should I really keep this when Bill's written all over it? I mean, he'll definitely get somewhat mad if I destroy it, not to mention I'd be wasting over 2,500 dollars that took me _for-ev-er_ to earn. Fine. I'll keep it.

Bill: 1, Viola: 0.

Groaning, I close the lid and notice something else: where the label is, someone's crossed out a word and written something else.

_Scroll made of 100% ivory irony. Use with care._

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter 3 will hopefully be up this weekend. Thanks for R&amp;R!<strong>


End file.
